


Wigs

by doolabug



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, wig abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:57:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doolabug/pseuds/doolabug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember when POTC fandom was all about abusing the Commodore's wig?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wigs

The wind is light, only tops’l’s set, and Sparrow has perfect control of the ship, but even so, he shouldn’t just slouch there.

Black eyes regard him appraisingly, move their focus to the top of his head. “You’ve got to get rid of that thing, mate.”

Norrington sighs; a tired subject. “Sparrow. I will not.”

“’Captain Sparrow’ on my own quarterdeck, savvy. And why not? ‘T’s not part of the uniform, is it?”

“No, not exactly, Captain Sparrow, but I wouldn’t be presentable without it.”

“Presentable to whom, exactly?” Perfect mimicry of Norrington’s blue-blooded accent. “Perhaps you’ve not noticed, but we’re all pirates here, mate. ‘Cepting your own fine self, of course.” A smile spreads, slow and dark as molasses.

An eyebrow arches. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just that we don’t stand on such pomp and ceremony here, whatever you may do ashore.”

“That’s not what I mea-, ah, rather, what I mean to say is…”

“Ohhh, you meant the part about your fine self.” The smile widens, a glint of gold.

James flushes mutely.

“I mean what I say, Jamie, you know that. But the wig must go.” A hand flits up to stop the inevitable protestations. “The rest of the uniform I can take. And even like.” Appreciative eyeing of the fine bright buttons on the coat cuffs, the tight white breeches. “But the wig, Jamie-luv, it just won’t do.”

Indignant spluttering. More coloring as a result of the eyeing.

“No, I’ve made up me mind, and the captain’s word is law aboard his ship. The wig goes, or we don’t resume our negotiations. And how would Governor Swann like that, eh?”

“Jack, you’re being preposterous. Stop abusing my wig, and stop tormenting me with your lewd stares.”

A sinuous movement and Jack stands erect; a motion to Gibbs and he releases the wheel. He advances on James, utterly invading his personal space until he is nearly pressed full-length against him. James holds his ground, heart thumping, smelling sweat and tar and rum. 

A lewd stare, a low voice. “I will not stop tormenting you, ever. And I most certainly will not stop abusing that wig.” A quick motion, clever as a cat, and Jack thrusts his pelvis into James to distract his attention, snatching the commodore’s hat with one hand and his wig with the other. The hat is back on his head and the pirate six feet away before James comprehends what happened.

Labored breathing. “Return it at once!”

“No.” And Jack tosses the offending hairpiece over the taffrail and into the sea. Satisfied crossing of arms over chest, one booted foot thrust out, smirk in place.

James watches the wig sail majestically over the rail, highlighted for one brief instant against the brilliant blue of the Caribbean sky, and then tumble into the foaming wake. It bobs helplessly for a moment, before sinking out of sight. Incredulous eyes turn to Jack. “You. You drowned my wig!”

“Like a rat in a cage.”

More spluttering.

“Oh, leave it, Jamie. ’T’s not worth all that. Leave it all behind, for now at least. Time enough for wigs when you’re on land, Commodore. Now, accompany me to my cabin and we shall resume our talks.” A few steps, head turns to look back slyly out of the corner of a kohl-rimmed eye. “’Sides, that was easy enough. Let’s see what other parts of your uniform I can get off you.”

Mouth begins to form the shape necessary for spluttering. Stops. James looks back at the distant spot where the wig sank; looks forward at the pirate sashaying down the quarterdeck steps. A lewd stare; he follows the pirate.


	2. Wigs II: And More Wigs

Captain Sparrow’s brow wrinkles in pained aggravation as he looks at Commodore Norrington. Or, more specifically, at his head. “I thought I drowned that damn thing!”

“Actually, you drowned its brother.” A smug little smile quirks James’s mouth. “Did you think I possessed only the one wig?”

“Apparently you have the entire litter of wigs. And this one suits you no better.” Jack moves languorously to the commodore’s chair; trails spastic fingers down James’s jaw and into the tight collar of his uniform. “Come now Jamie, let us put this one out of its misery as well. Or our misery, as it were. 'T's really the kindest thing to do.”

“Jack. Aboard _Pearl_ I minded your wishes. But that was then and this is now. I must keep the wig.”

A snort. “’Minded my wishes'?! May I remind you that I had to pluck that wig from your very head? Besides which, it was only a month ago.” Jack swings a leg over James’s lap and sits; hands explore through brocade and lace. “And just think how well our, er, negotiations progressed after that wig took a swim. Why, I can walk right into Port Royal and mount commodores to my heart’s content.” A wiggle proves his point.

An eyebrow arches. “Be that as it may, Captain Sparrow, I am required to appear professional here. As I believe I have told you before.” Large hands grasp slender hips, pull them closer. James tips his head back to Jack’s questing tongue at his throat. A gasp. Buttons come undone; a sash is removed.

Growling. “Take it off Jamie. Take it all off.” Jack’s hands move toward the odious object; larger hands release hips and catch wrists.

“No.” A challenging glint in sea-green eyes. “I will retain the wig. All else may go.”

Jack sits back; black eyes blink. “You can’t be serious, mate.”

“I am entirely serious.” James stands, hands catching the pirate’s arse and holding him in place. Legs wrap his waist; strong arms grasp his shoulders; a solid body is pressed to his. James carries him the few feet to his sitting room divan; drops.

Boots are pulled off, swords laid aside, clothing removed, the wig remains. Bare skin, pale and tanned. Mouths seek, find. White curls caress dark locks, leaving powder in their wake. Hands stroke chests, stomachs, thighs, cocks. James knees legs apart, settles into the heat. Catches Jack’s hands as they move toward his head. Green eyes hold amusement, and a warning. Entirely too self-possessed for Jack to leave alone.

A back arches; an idea forms. “It can, ah, can stay. Let me, oh yes, let, unh… I want, Jamie yes!, I want to touch… there, right there!… want to touch it!.” Green eyes widen; the tempo increases. Fingers release Jack's hands and move to lift his hips. 

Jack raises his hands to the wig, still in place despite the heat and movement. Grimy fingers tangle in the white, pulling James down; a searing, thrashing kiss. Twisting, pulling, clutching. Powder drifts like icing sugar, sticking to sweaty collarbones, gritting between slick stomachs. The commodore’s façade disintegrates along with the wig.

A strain, a push; groans and curses. Bodies collapse. The wig is askew but holds its post.

Jack and James lie together, stretched on the damp divan. James holds the gallant but mortally wounded wig. Sighs. “You’ve done it again Jack. The wig is ruined.” Beholds draggled curls, tangled pieces, some chunks removed altogether. “You must desist in your flagitious abuse of my wigs.”

Jack studies white powder lodged under his nails, obscuring the tar there. “Jamie, it should have been drowned at birth. ‘T’s not my fault if it put up a fight and forced me to defend myself.” Looks up through dark lashes. “Besides, as I recall, mate, I’m not the one who insisted it accompany us.” 

A rueful glance. “Having already murdered one innocent wig, I didn’t think you’d stoop to maltreating another.”

A glittering smile. “Pirate.”


	3. Wigs III: A Matter of Trust

He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow at Jack.

“’T’s all a matter of trust, Jamie. D’you trust me?”

“Jack. Of course I trust you, else you wouldn’t be here now, pirate as you are. But what has this to do with trust? It appears to be more along the lines of your, ah, proclivities. Just how long were you in the Far East?”

“Long enough. But this is about you, Jamie-luv. Now, I admit the idea of you bound and submitting to me… (dark smile from Jack, dark glower from James)… isn’t unappealing, but do you trust me to ensure that you enjoy this as much as I will?”

James looked consideringly at Jack. The pirate’s black-rimmed eyes glittered in the candlelight as he held James’s gaze. A slow smile curved Jack’s lips as he began to remove his sash and shirt; boots and hat had been left by the door. It wasn’t that he mistrusted Jack, far from it after so much time. He just wasn’t accustomed to voluntarily giving up his will. Jack’s shirt fell to the floor, revealing dusky nipples and skin flushed gold in the low light. James lost all reservations, and his own shirt as well.

“Now just relax, luv.” Jack clicked a manacle around James’s wrist. “You’ll like this.” The second cuff clicked, holding James’s hands just above head level. “Or at least I will.” Jack cackled smugly as James looked at him with trepidation in his eyes. “Now, where to begin…” he mused as he stroked his chin braids.

Jack walked around his captive, tracing fingers lightly across chest muscles, allowing a nail to catch a nipple. James caught his breath; Jack continued around to stand behind him. He leaned forward, pressing his chest to James’s smooth back and licked a hot trail from the nape of his neck down his spine, sliding down the taut body to his knees until he reached the barrier of his breeches. “Oh this will never do.”

Jack circled the narrow hips with his arms, unfastening James’s breeches with practiced fingers as he mouthed the soft skin at the top of his buttocks. He paused to curl his hand around the hardening flesh he felt. James gasped and Jack chuckled low in his throat. His hands settled on the commodore’s hips and slid the material down. Jack’s mouth followed, his tongue caressing the dip of James’s flank and trailing the line of muscle down the hard thigh. Jack paused at the back of the unsteady knee, tracing his lips across the soft skin of one and then the other.

Jack rose and James kicked his breeches away. Moving to stand in front of James, Jack stepped back to admire the vision the commodore presented: entirely naked but for his wig and the manacles, a light sheen of sweat glistening across his forehead and pectorals, his cock standing proud of the thatch of curling hair. James leaned his forehead against an arm and looked at Jack from under dark lashes with an expression both wary and intense, his breath shuddering in his lungs.

Jack held his eyes and slid his breeches low on his hips. Seeing he had James’s attention, he unfastened the buttons, allowing his hard cock to spring free. He stroked himself lightly twice, watching James’s eyes go dark as his pupils dilated. Jack shoved the breeches down and stepped out of the puddled cloth, standing mother-naked but for his head scarf and his grin.

He stepped lightly across the floor and moved to position himself behind the restrained commodore. James moved to face him but Jack caught his shoulders, rubbing gently as he turned him away. “Just close your eyes and feel, luv.” James obeyed and then gasped as he felt a lithe body pressed against him. His buttocks curved into Jack’s lower stomach and he could feel the head of the pirate’s hard cock pushed into the cleft of his ass. Jack’s hands curled around his waist, fingers dancing over the ridges of muscle as he thrust lightly against the soft flesh. James groaned and pushed back.

Jack chuckled and stepped away. “James, you’re manacled, mate, if you haven’t noticed. I’m the one to decide when you’ll thrust and when you’ll not.” And with that he playfully slapped a taut cheek. He wasn’t expecting the guttural moan that emanated from James’s throat. Jack looked wide-eyed at his captive. James tilted his head back and caught Jack’s eye. “Well. Well now. Who’d’ve thought…”

Jack smacked James’s arse again, an open-handed blow that resounded in the dark room. James sucked in breath with a hiss. Jack studied his face as he brought his hand down. James tossed his head back, eyes closed and powdered curls bouncing. Another smack and James’s buttock was growing red. Another, harder. James spread his legs, bracing his feet against the force of Jack’s blows. Each contact brought a gasp and a moan. Jack smoothed his hand around the heated flesh, feeling James’s arse quivering under his touch.

The pirate stepped close, closing his other hand around James’s straining cock. He stroked firmly down the length as he rubbed small circles on the sensitized skin. James cried out, thrusting forward as Jack’s hand slapped again. He pushed back against the hand on his arse, pulling his cock through the strong grasp. “Oh, God, Jack. What have you done to me?”

Jack found a rhythm, stroking the blood-dark cock with one hand while spanking the muscled arse with the other. He listened to James’s sounds, the moans and heavy breathing, and watched his face. When he judged the commodore getting close to release, he stopped the stroking and moved his hand to the sac beneath, massaging and tugging gently as his hand kept up the smacking behind. He nuzzled into James’s neck, nosing aside the curls of the wig to get to the skin beneath, tasting sweat and arousal there.

Abruptly, he stopped the spanking and the stroking, again stepping behind James. Jack pressed his weeping cock to the heated cleft, and reached up to grasp the wig. Dragging it from James’s head he watched the dark hair fall in disarray. James’s head fell back, his back arched as he pushed back against the hardness. Jack claimed an earlobe with his teeth, rubbing the coarse hair of the wig across the hypersensitive skin of James’s arse. The commodore hissed and pulled away. Jack scraped the wig against him again, just to be contrary. James danced sideways, looking reproachfully at his tormentor.

Jack moved to face James, twining arms around his neck. Stepping close, he aligned his hips with James’s and pushed their cocks together, eliciting a shuddering gasp. He caught James’s mouth with his own and felt a moan rumble in his throat. Releasing his lips, Jack trailed wet kisses down James’s neck and sternum, hands preceding his advance toward his groin.

Jack sank to his knees, eyeing the straining erection in front of him. He blew lightly, sending a cool breath to caress the engorged length. He looked up and caught sea-dark eyes regarding him hungrily. Holding James’s gaze, he extended his tongue and lapped the moisture beading at the slit. James’s knees gave and he slumped against his bonds, watching as Jack’s tongue sketched the head of his cock. With a final evil glance, Jack grasped the base, holding the thick flesh steady as he slipped his mouth around the hard head. James gave voice, closing his eyes lest he come at the sight, and felt the pirate’s throat relax as he consumed the entire length. Jack pulled back, tensing his lips as he pushed on again, hand following his mouth to increase the friction.

James’s sounds nearly undid him, and Jack wrapped his free hand around his own cock. Stroking his erection in rhythm to the movement of his mouth, Jack increased speed as he heard James’s breath become irregular. James opened his eyes to look down. The sight of Jack’s angular face, sheened in sweat and lips wrapped around his cock, wild locks swaying with his exertions, caused him to falter. His eyes noticed movement below and James realized that Jack was stroking himself. Jack sucked hard and James exploded into his mouth, crying out his release as he watched Jack’s throat work and felt warm spatters on the skin of his legs.

Jack stood slowly, unbending his knees carefully as he regained his balance. James hung in his manacles, panting heavily. Jack released the cuffs and caught James under the arms as he fell to bear him gently to the floor where they curled around each other.

James looked accusingly at Jack as he recovered his breath and gingerly rubbed his backside. “Sparrow, I will never trust you again.”

Jack smiled sweetly. “Jamie, if you want to be tied up and spanked again, all you have to do is ask.”


End file.
